


Six Weeks

by Alipeeps



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Episode 2x01, Episode Tag, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Other, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 09:19:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14017131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alipeeps/pseuds/Alipeeps
Summary: Tag fic to episode 2x01. Missing scene whump fic exploring the aftermath of the explosion... and those nasty-looking wounds Wyatt is still sporting 6 weeks later.





	Six Weeks

**Author's Note:**

> "6 weeks later"
> 
> Really, Timeless? Really? Well, if you're gonna skip over the whump like that then I guess I'm just gonna have to fill in the blanks myself. :D

There wasn’t enough time. Which was kind of ironic, given that he was standing in a literal time machine. But, as it was, he barely had time to process what he was seeing – the incongruous device, its red light flashing ominously –before it detonated, a wave of heat and light blossoming outwards with a deafening roar. There was no time to do anything but turn away from the blast before his world disintegrated into heat and pain and darkness...

There was an acrid taste in his throat, the smell of smoke and burning electronics. His ears were ringing and sound was muffled, distorted, making him feel dizzy. He ached... everywhere. He groaned, and coughed weakly. His head felt like it was stuffed with rocks, his body heavy and uncooperative. He tried to move and froze as sharp pain rippled across his shoulders, making him cry out.

The hot spike of pain brought the world into sharper focus. Cold metal under his cheek. The air thick with smoke. He struggled to open his eyes. Something touched his arm and he moaned. Through the roaring in his ears, he became aware of a voice, tinny and faint, sharp with urgency.

“-att! Oh shit, Wyatt?!!”

Where was he? What...? 

He opened his eyes, trying to make sense of surroundings. His vision blurred in and out, acrid smoke making his eyes sting and water. He coughed and the motion made his chest hurt. It was dark, the air smoky and hot, and he blinked blearily, trying to make sense of what little he could see. Metal floor, cabling, metal struts bolted into the floor. A dull, flickering light bathed everything in a murky orange.

Fire. Something was on fire. There was... Shit. Explosion. There was an explosion. A bomb. And he.. he’d been in the... in the... with... 

“Rufus..?” His voice sounded too loud in his head, raw and gravelly. 

Something jostled his shoulder and a sharp spike of pain made him cry out, his vision greying out for a second.

“Wyatt!? Can you hear me?”

He sucked in a ragged breath. “Rufus...”

Shit. Wyatt’s ears felt uncomfortably blocked, muffling any sound. Blast damage. Rufus was probably blast-deaf too. He tried again, shouting as loud as he could. “Rufus!!” The effort made him cough harshly, his throat gritty with smoke and dust.

“Oh thank god! I thought you were dead!”

Wyatt groaned. His back was throbbing now, a hot pulsing pain that was burning away the fog in his head. He was... something was definitely wrong...

“Rufus...” His voice was a rough croak against the muffled roaring in his ears but a hand on his arm told him Rufus had heard him. “Are you... are you okay?”

Rufus gave what sounded like a cross between a laugh and a cough. “Am I okay? Oh yeah, I’m just peachy... I mean... I got thrown against the console and I have bruises on my bruises, probably breathing more smoke than oxygen right now, but other than that...”

Muffled and distant as it was, Wyatt could hear the barely controlled panic Rufus’ voice. But he was okay. That was... that was important.

Console. Thrown against the... Lifeboat. He was in the lifeboat. He remembered... he remembered turning away as the wall of heat and flame rushed towards him.

“I think... I think you took the brunt of it.” Panic, mixed with worry. “Wyatt, what was that? What the hell happened?”

He coughed and swallowed, tasting smoke and ash. “Bomb.”

“What?! But how... who..?”

Floor. He was on the floor of the lifeboat. He was lying face-down, crammed inbetween the two passenger seats, one arm pinned beneath his chest. The blast must have thrown him forwards... He’d been in the lifeboat when the bomb went off. With Rufus. But...

“Rufus...” Wyatt coughed raggedly, grunting at the flare of pain in his ribs. “The others? Everyone outside... are they..?”

For a long moment the only sound was the ringing in his ears.

“I uh.. I think so. It’s... it’s a mess out there...”

Mess. Explosion. Lifeboat. The lifeboat saved them. A blast that big... the thick hull of the lifeboat was the only reason he and Rufus were alive.

Alive. Keep it that way, soldier.

Assess the situation.

Rufus : mobile, minor injuries only.

Wyatt: not mobile. Probable blast injuries. Pain... everywhere. But especially his back. And his chest. Broken ribs? Possibility of spinal injury. Need to stay still. Assess extent of injuries.

“Rufus... need you to... need you to look at my back for me... Something’s...” He coughed, cleared his throat. “Tell me what you see...”

“Umm... okay...”

He sensed more than heard Rufus shuffling around in the cramped confines of the lifeboat, was vaguely aware of him leaning over him.

“I, uh... oh geez... is that..?”

He felt a brief touch somewhere below his shoulder blade and the throbbing pain in his back surged, hot and angry, pulling a ragged cry from his lips, leaving him gasping for breath.

“Oh shit! Sorry! Sorry!!”

He gritted his teeth. “Don’t... don’t touch!” He tried to calm his breathing, holding himself tensely as the flare of pain slowly settled. “And don’t... try to move me. Just... just tell me what you see...” 

“I... uh... oh god. You’re... you’re bleeding. Um... I think, a lot. And you, uh... you have a... a _bunch_ of shrapnel in your back!”

Shit. Not... not good.

Okay, focus. Focus, dammit. 

Blood loss. Possibly internal bleeding? No way to know for sure. Spinal injury still a possibility. Moving really not a good idea. Stabilise. Wait for help.

But...

Bomb. Had to be Rittenhouse. What if... what if they come... make sure everyone’s dead?

He coughed again, the smoky air burning in his throat.

No. Doesn’t matter. Even if they come back... not in any state to do anything about it. And... blast that big.... 

_...cloud of roiling flame, rushing at him, heat blistering his skin..._

...no way they expect anyone to be alive.

So. Stabilise.

He took a ragged breath.

“How big... shrapnel?”

He could practically hear Rufus fretting, even through the ringing in his ears.

“Uh... define big?”

He frowned. How big is big?

“Anything... anything bigger than two... three fingers?”

“Uuuh... no. I don’t think so.”

Okay. Okay.

Probably not... penetrating. Probably. Maybe...

“Wyatt? You okay?”

He flinched, startled. What? He’d... he’d drifted for a moment...

Rufus was gabbling to himself, his voice high with panic.

“Oh god, sorry. I mean, obviously you’re anything but okay, but... shit! Wyatt? Talk to me, Wyatt?!”

Wyatt took a deep breath. Or tried to. It made him cough, harsh and painful. His throat felt raw. Smoke inhalation...?

“Mmm... m’okay...” he mumbled hoarsely.

“Like hell, you are!”

“Am... stable. Need to keep... keep me still. Wait for help.”

“Stable? Wyatt, you’re bleeding everywhere...” 

“Don’t... don’t know what other injuries. Need to stay still... wait...”

“Other injuries..?!” Rufus was seriously starting to panic. “We need... we need to get help! We need... Shit! Phone! Where’s my phone?!”

Scrabbling sounds in the dark and then a brighter glow lit up the interior.

“C’mon, c’mon...” Rufus urged impatiently. “Shit! Can’t get a signal in here!” The glow shut off. “Maybe... maybe if I lean out the hatch...” He felt something shift beside him, Rufus moving around.

“Okay, Wyatt, I’ll be right back, okay?” His voice was getting fainter, getting lost in the muffled roaring. “I’m just gonna try and get a signal... Wyatt? You hear me?”

He tried to reply but he couldn’t seem to find the energy. Everything was getting darker, blurrier.

“Wyatt? Hey, stay with me!” Rufus’s voice was louder, closer all of a sudden.

Wyatt blinked slowly. His head felt heavy. 

“M’here...” he slurred. He licked his lips, tasting smoke on his skin. The flickering orange light made everything seem to swim and dance. Somewhere outside the lifeboat, fires were still burning.

“Hey...” Rufus’ tinny voice was no longer panicky. He sounded... he sounded sad... and scared. “What if help doesn’t... doesn’t get here in time?”

Wyatt didn’t have an answer for that. Or... he did. But Rufus wouldn’t want to hear it.

He breathed in raggedly. And again. It didn’t help. He couldn’t... seem to get a full breath. He tried again, trying to take a deep breath, feeling panic beginning to crowd in on him. There wasn’t... there wasn’t enough air...

“Wyatt?” 

He was gasping now, struggling for air. He swallowed, choked, and coughed harshly, a rough, gravelly sound. Pain stabbed hotly across his ribs and he thought he felt something grind and move. He coughed again, desperately trying to suck in air, and again, his chest heaving with the effort... and panicked as he felt something thick surging in his throat, something that spattered wetly onto his lips.

“Oh shit!”

His mouth tasted sour, metallic. He coughed again, his breathing rapid and far too shallow, and spat, feeling a hot wetness pooling beside his mouth. Blood. He was... shit. Blast trauma. Lung damage. He.. his lungs were filling with liquid... he was going to drown... 

“Wyatt?!”

He was barely aware of Rufus’ anxious shout. All he could focus on was the desperate need for air. His arm flailed reflexively, scrabbling helplessly at the floor. Something grabbed hold of his hand and he clutched it desperately, absurdly aware of the thrum of his racing pulse sounding in his ears as he struggled to breathe.

Rufus. It was Rufus’ hand he was clinging to. 

“Wyatt, what do I do!?”

“Sit... sit me up...”

“But you said not to move you... you said...”

“Fluid in lungs... I can’t... breathe...” He coughed desperately, blood dripping from his mouth. “Sit... me up...”

“Shit!”

Rufus pulled his hand free of Wyatt’s and a second later he felt a firm grip under his armpits, and then he was being lifted. The pain was immediate, hot and sharp, a flare of agony across his shoulders and down his back, a grinding stab of pain in his ribcage. He didn’t have the breath to scream. His desperate gasps for air rattled in and out with a dreadful wheezing moan.

His head swam dizzily and blackness crowded in at the edges of his vision. He couldn’t concentrate on anything but the grinding pain and the terrifying sensation of suffocating. 

“Wyatt? You with me?”

He came back to himself to find he was sitting awkwardly on the floor of the lifeboat, his legs tangled in front of him, listing precariously sideways but mostly upright. He could feel something warm and solid pressed against his arm and realised Rufus was sat on the floor with him, and he was leaned against Rufus’ chest, His back was on fire but his breathing was... better. Easier. He still couldn’t get a proper breath, but at least he didn’t feel like he was drowning.

“Wyatt?”

“M’good...”

He felt Rufus’ disbelieving laugh rumble through his chest.

“Okay, so... what now?”

Wyatt couldn’t answer. A ragged cough made him hunch forward, hiccupping and choking on the blood bubbling up into his mouth. He spat miserably, blood dripping down his chin.

He felt Rufus stiffen suddenly.

“Hey, you hear that?”

Wyatt couldn’t hear much of anything, to be honest.

“Hear what?” he mumbled.

“I dunno, I thought... I thought I heard something...”

Rufus startled. “There! Tell me you heard that?!”

Wyatt shook his head miserably, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe.

“I think there’s someone out there...”

A thrill of adrenalin made Wyatt’s heart beat faster. Someone was coming? But who? Friend or foe? Rescue... or Rittenhouse?

He tried to hold himself as still as he could, tried to calm his ragged, gasping breathing, and listen.

Nothing. Then, muffled and sounding very far away, a sudden clattering sound... Rufus was right. Someone was moving around in the bombed out building. But who? Surely if it was Rittenhouse they’d be trying to be quiet? But what if...?

“Hello? Is anyone in there?” The voice was tinny and distant, but it sounded like... 

“Wyatt? Rufus?”

Agent Christopher. Thank god.

“Here!! We’re in here!” Rufus’ shout was jubilant with relief.

“Rufus?!”

“Yes! We’re alive!”

Another sound, closer now, a grinding, squealing noise as though something heavy and metallic was being pushed or dragged. Wyatt shivered and groaned as another wet, choking cough filled his mouth with the tang of iron.

Wyatt’s back was to the open hatch but he knew from the way Rufus stiffened, and the dull orange glow of firelight darkened, that Agent Christopher had made it to the lifeboat.

“My god...” she breathed.

“Wyatt’s hurt,” Rufus said quickly. “He’s... really hurt.”

There was a series of scrabbling, thumping noises as Christopher clambered up into the lifeboat.

“Boy, am I glad to see you,” Rufus told her emphatically.

“Are you okay?” Her tone was brisk, but laced with concern.

“I’ll be fine,” Rufus dismissed. “Wyatt needs help, quickly.”

“Wyatt?” He tried to answer but another racking cough stole his breath, leaving him wheezing and light-headed, blood trickling out the side of his mouth as he tried to catch his breath. 

He thought he heard Christopher curse softly. 

“Wait.. where’s Lucy?” she asked suddenly.

A surge of panic washed through him, his head swimmingly dizzily, before he remembered that no... no, she wasn’t here when the bomb blew. He’d... he’d been calling her when...

He swallowed thickly, the taste of blood sour in his mouth. He tried to calm his breathing.

“She wasn’t here,” Rufus was answering. “She was late for the mission... Wyatt was trying to call her when... this happened.”

“It’s a miracle you two survived at all...” Christopher said, wonderingly.

“You can thank the lifeboat for that,” Rufus agreed. “If we hadn’t been in here...” he broke off awkwardly. “Is... is everyone else..?”

“From what I saw out there, yeah.” she said regretfully. 

But Agent Christopher was nothing if not pragmatic. “But you two survived... and so did the lifeboat. Rittenhouse failed... and I’m not about to give them a second chance...”

He heard the faint beep of her phone and a bluish glow lit up the gloomy interior. It was enough light for him to see her feet step carefully over his splayed legs, to see the concerned expression on her face as she crouched down in front of him, the phone glowing brightly in her hand.

“Wyatt. What’s your status?”

His breath whistled in his chest as he took a breath, forced himself to focus.

“Got... caught by... the blast.” His voice came out hoarse and gravelly. “Hard... hard to... breathe. Coughing... up blood..” He coughed raggedly, as though to make his point. “Shrapnel... in my back... don’t know... how bad.” He shivered. “Feel like... maybe... couple broken... ribs...”

She nodded, her expression grave. “Okay. Hang in there for me. I’m gonna get you some help.” She pressed a button on her phone and was already putting it to her ear as she stood up.

“C’mon, c’mon...” Her feet moved out of his line of sight. “Dammit. No signal.”

“It’s the lifeboat,” Rufus told her. “Mobile signals don’t like thick metal walls. Try leaning out the hatch.”

Wyatt shivered, a tremor that ran through his whole body. It was getting cold in here. 

“Hey,” Rufus coughed, his chest shifting under Wyatt’s arm. “You doing okay? You’re shaking.”

“C-c-cold...” he mumbled.

“Thank god!” Agent Christopher must have gotten a signal because suddenly she was speaking quickly, a flurry of words that Wyatt could barely keep up with.

“Yes, yes, I’m on the scene. The lifeboat is intact. Sergeant Logan and Mr Carlin are alive. No other survivors. No, she’s not here. Yes. No. I’ve set a perimeter but the scene isn’t entirely secure. I’m going to need a medevac – army personnel only, no civilian agencies. Yes. Logan. And we’re going to need a secure site. Somewhere off the grid. Okay. Do what you can...”

He let the flow of words fade into the background, a muffled murmur of noise that was almost soothing. He blinked heavily, his head nodding.

“Rufus...” he croaked.

“Yeah?” He felt Rufus tense anxiously.

“You know...” he swallowed, his throat dry and gritty, “you know the... recovery... position?”

“What?! Um... yeah... I... why?!”

“If I... if I pass out... you gotta... put me... in... recovery position..” His breath was rasping in his throat, too fast, too shallow. 

“What? What do you mean, if you pass out? Wyatt?!” 

Wyatt shivered, his vision blurring. Dizziness made him list forwards.

“Whoah, hey!! Wyatt?!! Hey, stay with me!” Rufus was trying to hold onto him, struggling to keep a grip on him without touching the shrapnel in his back. He wasn’t entirely successful. Wyatt gave a hoarse, breathless moan as sharp, shooting pain made him tense and shudder. It jolted him back to some kind of wakefulness, as Rufus howled in his ear, “Agent Christopher!! Need a little help here!!” 

“Wyatt? Look at me Wyatt!”

He struggled to raise his head, to focus on the face swimming in front of him.

Agent Christopher. “Come on, soldier,” she prodded. “Are you with me?”

He gave a wobbly nod. “Yyyeah...”

“Okay. We need to get you out of here. Can you move?”

“Whoah whoah whoah, wait a minute!” Rufus panicked. “He said not to move him! He said he could have other injuries...”

“I’m afraid that’s a risk we’re just going to have to take,” Christopher said firmly. “We need to move - now. We have a limited timeframe here.”

“Wha- what do you mean?”

“Rittenhouse intended that bomb to be a killing strike - wipe out our operation in one fell swoop. Right now, they probably think they succeeded. But if they find out you two are alive... that the lifeboat wasn’t destroyed...”

“They’ll keep coming for us...” Rufus realised.

“Our only advantage right now is that they think we’re beaten. And we need them to go on thinking that. So we need to get you two – and the lifeboat – somewhere secure, somewhere Rittenhouse can’t find us. And we need to do it quickly, and discreetly, before anyone finds out the truth.” 

She looked Wyatt in the eye. “I’m sorry Wyatt, but we need to go and we need to go now.”

Somehow Wyatt mustered enough energy to lift his head and meet her gaze. “Yes, ma’am,” he rasped. He thought he saw a glint of a smile touch her lips before she quickly stood up and moved out of his line of sight.

“Okay, Rufus, we don’t have a lot of space to manoeuvre here. We need to get him over to the hatch and get him on his feet.”

He felt a hand grip him firmly under his armpit. “I’ll steady him, you slide out of there and get hold of his other arm. Try not to touch his back.”

Her curtain of hair swung into his peripheral vision as she leaned forward to speak to him. “You ready, Wyatt?”

He gritted his teeth, sucked in a breath as best he could, and nodded shortly. This was gonna suck.

“Okay, Rufus, I’ve got him. Go.” Her grip on him tightened, pulling him slightly more upright, easing his weight away from Rufus’ chest, and he immediately felt Rufus begin to move, wriggling his body to try and squeeze himself out of the narrow space between Wyatt and the passenger seat he had been leaning against. The pull from one side, combined with Rufus’s squirming, put pressure on the damaged skin and muscles across his back and the result was a surge of pain that stole his breath and made him see stars. He could do little but gasp soundlessly, futilely, for air as Rufus wriggled to his feet and quickly hooked a hand under his other armpit.

“Okay, let’s move him. We’re going to lift just a little and then just slide him backwards. On three. 1... 2... 3!” 

His world whited out on him for a moment as every part of his battered, aching body protested being moved. He was vaguely aware that he was making a raw keening moan, his teeth gritted together so tightly he felt his jaw might break, but he couldn’t seem to stop. A spasm of coughing set his chest on fire and he found himself choking horribly as his mouth filled with fluid. He gagged and sputtered, hot coppery blood spilling down his chin.

“Jesus...” He was distantly aware of Rufus’ grip faltering, his weight sagging lower on that side.

“Don’t stop. The sooner we get him up, the sooner we get him help. On three. 1... 2... 3!”

The hands under his armpits gripped him tight, grabbing handfuls of his shirt, and in a swift movement, lifted him upright and onto his feet. Kind of. His feet were under him but his legs didn’t seem to want to bear any weight and his head swam dizzily the moment he was upright, making him feel like he was falling.

“Whoah!!” Him arms were lifted, making the wounds on his back shriek in protest, and then there was a warm body pressing up against him on either side, his arms pulled across their shoulders, supporting his weight as his head wobbled woozily and he fumbled to get control of his legs.

“Come on, Wyatt. You can do this.”

He nodded vaguely. Come on, soldier. Focus. Breathing in short, shallow gasps, he gritted his teeth and forced himself to lock his knees. 

“That’s it. Okay, we’re going to move to the hatch. One step at a time, alright?” Christopher spoke calmly, reassuringly, as though coaxing a reluctant child and he frowned, irrationally annoyed. 

“I can... do it,” he growled, hoarsely.

“Damn straight you can, soldier. Now prove it to me.”

It took more energy than he thought possible but, with the majority of his weight slung between their shoulders, he managed to take a short, unsteady step, and another... and another. His chest was heaving as he struggled to pull in enough air and he realised he was trembling, his every muscle shivering. 

“Okay, Wyatt, we’re going to lower you to sit on the edge of the hatch, okay? Rufus, on three...”

He tensed involuntarily, feeling like he was going to fall as his weight was lowered backwards, his legs splaying out in front of him. He groaned as they set him, a little heavily, on the cold metal of the open hatch. The flickering firelight was brighter here, the smell of smoke and scorched metal stronger. He risked lifting his head enough to try and look over his shoulder but all he saw was a vast, open space, small fires burning here and there, casting a dancing orange glow across twisted debris. The control centre was... gone.

“Hold him steady, Rufus. I’m going to go out first.”

The hatch wasn’t really wide enough for two people and Wyatt held himself tensely, Rufus doing his best to hold him in place, as Agent Christopher squeezed uncomfortably past him to clamber down from the lifeboat. He heard her land with a faint crash.

“Okay, swing his legs round and out the hatch. You’re going to lower him and I’m going to catch him.” Her voice floated up from somewhere below him.

Wait. Catch him? He didn’t like the sound of that. But he didn’t have time to dwell on it because Rufus was already tucking himself under one arm and taking some of his weight.

“Okay, buddy... help me out here. I’m gonna turn you around a bit... think you can lift your leg up onto the hatch?”

Wyatt wheezed in a breath and nodded. “Do it,” he rasped.

The pull across his back as Rufus twisted him around was excruciating but Wyatt bit down on the groan building in his throat and focused on trying to lift his leg to move. It felt like it weighed at least a ton and he could feel sweat springing up, cold and clammy, on his forehead as he struggled to swing it up over the lip of the hatch. He wobbled dangerously, letting out a croak of alarm, as Rufus leaned forward, unbalancing them a little, and used his free hand to help push his leg up the last few inches. His heel caught on the lip for a second, then settled heavily onto the wide ledge of the hatch. With a huff of effort, and his hand fisted in his pants over his thigh, Wyatt dragged his foot across and over the side, gravity taking over and pulling the weight of his leg down out of the hatch. His foot hit the bulky lower ring of the lifeboat with a dull, metallic thud.

Getting his other leg out was a bit more tricky. The space was awkward and Rufus struggled to keep him upright whilst getting his leg to bend enough to get his heel up onto the lip of the hatch. 

“This would be a whole lot easier if you were shorter,” Rufus groused in frustration. Wyatt huffed out a laugh, and immediately regretted it when it turned into a bone-shaking cough.

“Sorry...” he wheezed, trying to turn his head away as blood spattered from his lips.

“Don’t worry about it.” Rufus ordered, waiting for him to catch his breath a little before trying to move him again. They’d nearly gotten his leg into place when Rufus’ grip slipped a little and Wyatt’s back brushed the edge of the hatch behind him. Something pulled and grated inside him, a white hot jolt of pain that made him jerk and scream.

When he was able to focus enough to try and breathe, Rufus was apologising profusely and Agent Christopher had climbed up to stand on the lower ring, leaning into the circle of the hatch to help hold him steady. 

“Not... not... your... fault...” Wyatt insisted, breathlessly. 

“This sucks,” Rufus said emphatically.

“Yeah,” Wyatt agreed shortly, still trying to calm his breathing. “C’mon... let’s... go again...”

“You sure?” Rufus worried. He nodded, not wanting to waste breath on words.

“Okay, on three...” This time Rufus concentrated on holding him upright and Agent Christopher leaned in through the hatch to grab hold of his leg and drag it up over the ledge. He grunted as his knee bent further than it felt like it should and then his heel slipped free of the ledge and scraped down the curve of the lifeboat hull to rest on the lower ring, the motion pulling him the rest of the way around so that he was sitting on the edge of the wide, sloped ledge of the hatch, looking down at Agent Christopher’s soot-smudged, determined face.

She let go of his leg and clambered awkwardly backwards, feeling her way behind her with her feet, before dropping to the ground with a little jump. Wyatt watched her go with a vague bemusement before his oxygen-deprived brain made the connection and he looked down at his feet resting on the lower ring of the lifeboat. Shit. The wheeled steps they usually used to make it easier to climb in and out of the lifeboat were... somewhere in the fitfully burning mass of shattered debris that used to be the control room.

The lifeboat’s bulky design made getting in and out somewhat awkward. The hatch was a good five foot off the ground and you had to climb up and over the jutting lower ring to get to it. Not normally a problem for a fit and healthy soldier like Wyatt. But today was not exactly a normal day. He grimaced, looking unhappily at the drop in front of him.

Agent Christopher was on the ground, leaning against the lower ring, as she reached an arm up towards him.

“Wyatt, you’re going to need to slide yourself down to sit on the ring. Then we’ll lower you down from there,” she instructed. “Rufus, can you help lower him?”

“Okay...”

He was aware of Rufus shifting his stance behind him, bracing himself to take Wyatt’s weight. 

“You ready?”

“Yeah...”

Rufus hooked his hands under Wyatt’s armpits. “Okay, I’ve got hold of you. Can you scoot yourself forward?”

“Uh-huh.” Stretching his feet out to the edge of the ring below, he slid himself forward over the lip of the hatch and, with Rufus doing his best to control his descent, slid the short distance down onto the ring with a bump that reverberated through his body and made him gasp for breath. He wobbled for a moment, his head spinning dizzily, and Agent Christopher quickly reached up and grabbed hold of his hand, tugging him gently forward so that he leaned away from the curved hull of the lifeboat at his back. He sat like that for a moment, hunched over, his breath whistling in his throat, as Rufus scrambled out of the hatch and climbed down onto the ring beside him.

“Okay, now for the fun part,” Agent Christopher said ruefully.

A part of Wyatt wanted to tell her to stop, that he hurt, that he was tired and dizzy, that he needed a moment to catch his breath. But he also knew that time was not on his side and no amount of rest was going to make any of that go away. He was only going to get worse over time, and the quicker he got out of here and got some medical attention, the better. Only, getting there was gonna hurt like hell.

So he tried to breathe as slow and calm as he could, braced himself for the pain to come, and signalled he was ready to go.

In a repeat of his journey down to the lower ring, he shuffled himself forwards, bit by bit, until he was perched on the very edge of the ring, Rufus bracing himself behind him with a hand under each armpit and Agent Christopher standing with her arms outstretched, ready to catch him. For a moment he had a visceral sensation of being on a static line, D-Bag bulky on his back, waiting by the open hatch for the go command. It was a physical jolt of memory, he could almost feel the rush of air on his face...

And then he was slipping over the edge and dropping, faster than he’d like, gravity stronger than Rufus’ grip on him, and his feet hit the floor and he kept going, his knees buckling, falling straight into the waiting arms of Agent Christopher, the impact making him yelp. She staggered for a moment under his dead weight, his height threatening to overbalance them both, but she kept a tight hold of him, her elbows hooked under his armpits, and braced herself, steadying them both.

“I need a hand here,” she said tightly.

“Coming!” 

Wyatt was only vaguely aware of the muffled thump of Rufus jumping down from the lifeboat, he was too busy trying to breathe through the fierce throb of pain in his ribs. And then Rufus was ducking under one of his arms, leaving Agent Christopher to hook the other across her shoulders, and suddenly they were moving, Wyatt’s head bobbing dizzily, his feet tangling and tripping as he vaguely tried to get them under him properly.

He struggled to focus, dizziness sideswiping him, making him feel like he was endlessly falling. The height difference between Rufus and Christopher had him off balance, his weight tilting him to one side, increasing the pull across his shoulders and back. His feet dragged and caught on tangled debris, his shoulders were on fire and he could feel a dreadful, painful grinding motion in his ribs that made him grit his teeth in an effort not to scream. He was barely conscious of Agent Christopher giving terse orders, something about the loading bay.

Time seemed to slow down, the baleful orange flicker of firelight making shadows dance in his peripheral vision. His lungs burned, the hot, smoky air scorching his throat and making his eyes water, the acrid taste of soot and fried electrics mixing with the hot coppery tang of blood as he coughed and coughed, gagging and spitting, gasping desperately for air.

“Come on, Wyatt, nearly there...”

One step, and another, and another, stumbling over twisted metal, the flush of heat on his skin as they skirted something burning fiercely, the flames crackling and dancing brightly, making him squint against the light.

It took him a moment to realise they had stopped moving, Agent Christopher shrugging her shoulders to shift his weight a little as she pushed hard on a solid metal door. It shrieked in protest and she pushed again, harder, the motion pulling Wyatt with her, his weight listing helplessly. Finally, with a grinding squeal of metal on concrete, the door gave way and swung stiffly outward and a rush of cool air washed over him, making him shiver.

One more step... and one more... and then they were outside, blinking in the sudden darkness of the night, all of them coughing and gasping, sucking in the cool, fresh air. But no matter how much he gasped and gasped, Wyatt still couldn’t seem to get enough air, and his throat still felt scorched and gritty. A spasm of coughing took him, his chest heaving painfully, his throat rasping with dry, desperate breaths. 

“Okay, come on, set him down, over here... over here...”

It was more of a controlled fall than anything else as they lowered his dead weight to the ground, his legs simply collapsing under him. 

“On his side, on his side...”

The asphalt was rough and cold under his cheek. He coughed and coughed and was vaguely aware of hands rolling him forward as he gagged and choked on his own blood. He gasped and wheezed, blood drooling from the side of his mouth.

“C'mon, man, breathe!”

He was cold, so cold, his whole body shivering and trembling. So tired. His eyes felt raw and gritty, his vision blurring in and out as he blinked woozily.

“Godammit, where is that medevac?!!” 

..........

_tbc..._

**Author's Note:**

> Big thank you to the awesome alliemackenzie28 who aided and abetted me in the writing of this fic by answering all my random questions with her amazing knowledge of medical stuff and, in particular, EMT stuff. :)


End file.
